Cravings
by Kaleidoscopic Panda Bear
Summary: (RATED T FOR USE/MENTIONING OF POT SMOKING DON'T LIKE DON'T READ.) He had at least 10 grams; he was going to get as high as the tower he was staying in, and he wasn't going to give a single fuck for anything else. Except for maybe food later on. But, as the physicist pulled out the old zippo from the box and lit up, he mused, 'That's future-Bruce's problem.'


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

For once in his life, Bruce Banner knew exactly what he was doing when he woke up that morning. It wasn't often that he got the craving for Marijuana, but when it hit him, it hit him hard. And, contrary to popular belief, weed was an excellent Hulk-suppressor. Alcohol, on the other hand, was not. So, as he got dressed, he made sure that the little cedarwood box was pulled out of the back of his closet, as well.

Without bothering to check if his door was locked, Bruce began to roll the first joint of the day. He had at least 10 grams; he was going to get as high as the tower he was staying in, and he wasn't going to give a single fuck for anything else. Except for maybe food later on. But, as the physicist pulled out the old zippo from the box and lit up, he mused, _'That's future-Bruce's problem.'_

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Tony was beginning to worry. It had been two hours since JARVIS had alerted him to Banner's awakened state, and he still had yet to see the man. Removing his safety goggles and standing up from the stool, he walked across the lab and punched in the key-code to unlock the door. He always locked the lab when he or Bruce were working with dangerous chemicals.

As Tony made his way up through the floors to where Bruce's room was located, he tried to silence the worrying thoughts in his head. But, as he got within a couple feet of the desired door, he caught the scent. _'I know that smell,' _Tony thought with a disbelieving laugh, _'I know that fucking smell.'_

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Who'd have known playing Pacman when higher than the Stark Tower would be so hard and so trippy. Jesus. Bruce didn't even notice as his still unlocked door creaked open, Tony slipping in and closing the door just as quietly. Finally, finally, when the pixeled dot that was Pacman ran into the wall and Bruce didn't rescue him from the ghosts, opting instead to take a hit off of the joint between his fingers, Tony began laughing, making himself known.

Bruce jumped harshly, managing to hold onto the weed. Glaring at Tony, he merely whisked the game screen away and blew smoke rings into the already hazy room. The physicist seemed unconcerned with the fact that Tony was in the room while he was smoking pot. No; he was far too gone for that. "Bruce..!" Tony finally chuckled out. "What the fuck are you doing?" A goofy smirk spread over the billionaire's face as he walked up and sat near Bruce on the bed.

Bruce shrugged. Or, well, tried to. The movement was sluggish at best as a sheepish smile washed over the man's features. " 'Ey, Tony!" came the late greeting. This had Stark doubled over laughing. He patted Bruce on the leg, straightening up and sighing. "Hope you're not mad,Tony, but I think you of all people know exactly what I'm doing here." The sentence was accompanied by a finger waving at the joint, to Tony, and then back again. Bruce giggled childishly.

Tony looked on blankly as Bruce took another hit, watching as the smoke was held for a few seconds before it was allowed to flow out of Bruce's nose and mouth. He looked, to all the world, like a dragon about to breathe fire. Tony snorted. "Gimme that," he said, handling the joint like it was something precious when Bruce offered it to him. Technically, it kind of was. He took a drag, gingerly awaiting the pleasant high that was to come. Taking a smaller hit before passing it back to Bruce, Tony silently wondered why JARVIS hadn't alerted him of his friend's actions.

_'Probably because J is a traitor. He knew I'd come up and join in.' _The billionaire mused, blowing the smoke out in rings as Bruce had done earlier. Before either man knew it, the joint turned into a roach and there was nothing left to pass. "Fuck," they breathed out in unison, glancing up at hearing the other's voice. Tony started laughing first, nowhere near as stoned as Bruce, but still high enough to not be considered sober.

"Got more?" he breathed out, watching as Bruce examined his own hand like he didn't know what it was. Chocolate brown eyes turned to him. "Of course I've got more. I've always got more." Bruce exclaimed, a note of disbelief in his voice, like he couldn't comprehend _not _having more of the drug.

He fished behind the fluffy pillows for the small cedarwood box, tossing it over to Tony when he pulled it out. A sly smile spread over Tony's face as he popped the top, revealing the seven grams left in the box with the zippo and rolling papers. "What, you don't have a pipe or a bowl in here? Not even a little one-hitter?" Tony, in mock-drama mode, placed the back of his hand against his forehead and grasped the front of his band-T where the Arc Reactor shown through.

"This is a catastrophe!" He flopped backwards onto the bed, the box open in his lap. "Oh, fuck off and roll another joint," Bruce muttered, his hand dropping like a stone back onto the sheets. "Holy shit." Tony shot up. Bruce gave him a quizzical and confused look. "You finally dropped the F-Bomb!" The clarification made Bruce bust out laughing. "Tony," the physicist shook his head, "I cuss all the time. Just not in English."

The man paused in the middle of rolling a joint. "Really? Is that what you're mumbling all the time?" Bruce nodded wisely. "Damn. That's kind of...sexy." They both chuckled again, lighting up and letting the time pass them by.


End file.
